


Love is a burning thing

by jadejedi



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Canonical Age Difference, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadejedi/pseuds/jadejedi
Summary: Laurent doesn’t remember the first time he met Damen, or his family. It didn’t really matter when they had first met, because Laurent had known his whole life that the Akielons were loud, obnoxious, irresponsible, and stupid.OrA rival ranch AU
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Love is a burning thing

**Author's Note:**

> Title from my favorite country song of all time, Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire.

Laurent doesn’t remember the first time he met Damen, or his family. It might have been at the county fair, competing in the cattle showings against Auguste, or maybe it had been around their little town, Damen with his half-brother and step mother, and Laurent with his mother and brother. It didn’t really matter when they had first met, because Laurent had known his whole life that the Akielons were loud, obnoxious, irresponsible, and stupid.

His father hated their neighbors. 

The Akielon’s ranch, White Cliff (“There are no white cliffs in Texas”, Aleron would complain every time they drove past the sign at the end of the driveway), bordered theirs from the south. Although both ranches were very large, each with thousands of acres of land, their houses were quite close to each other, near the road that ran along the west of the two properties. There was no escaping each other.

They went to the same school, the same church, attended the same rodeos, the same county fair. They even frequented the same H-E-B. Hennike would scrunch her nose in distaste, pasting on a smile as Hypermenestra walked by, usually alone or with Kastor, and very rarely with Damen sulkingly following behind her, and Hypermenestra would stride by, and return the fake smile. If their husbands were with them, they would greet each other with a tight, “de Vere.”, “Akielon.”, without a second glance. 

Sometimes Laurent would see the older one, Kastor, driving an ATV along their shared fence, and would glare at him as he drove by. On occasion he would see the younger one, Damen, at school, since the elementary and middle schools were in the same building. Laurent would glare at him as he passed, and Damen would roll his eyes in response. That made it worse, to Laurent, that the Akielon boys wouldn’t even take him seriously. 

They took Auguste seriously, of course. He was closer in age to them, eighteen, where Kastor was twenty, and Damen twelve. Laurent, being only seven, was hardly considered a worthy adversary, unlike Auguste, who had competed against both brothers in cattle showings at the county and state fair. 

Laurent remembered watching the show last year, glowering as Damen stood proudly as he won grand champion in his first year of competition, and Auguste had been awarded reserve champion. His stupid dark curls and his stupid dimpled grin as he had sought out his mother in the crowd, where she sat away from her ex and his family. 

When Laurent was forced to speak to either of the Akielon brothers he wasn’t as cooly cordial as either of his parents were. 

“Are you lost?” Laurent demanded one day, as he got off the bus in front of his house. “Last I checked, your house was a mile and a half that way,” he said, helpfully pointing south, just in case they’d forgotten. Damen and his older brother were both waiting by the mailbox at the end of the de Vere’s driveway, Kastor’s slightly beat up Ford pick-up parked awkwardly on the grass just off the drive. The afternoon sun reflected off the silver paint of the hood.

Kastor rolled his eyes, and straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the mailbox, muttering something about “Damn ungrateful de Veres”. Dust rose up in a small cloud as he shifted his feet. Damen looked troubled. 

Laurent crossed his arms, waiting for them to respond. It was hot, two hours south of San Antonio. It was only April and it was already in the nineties regularly. As his father liked to say, it was a dry heat, though. Not too bad.

He hoped that they weren’t here as part of the ever ongoing war between them and Auguste. Last time he’d gotten caught up between them, Damen had put a snake in his desk at school. 

“Well?” he demanded again, and resisted the urge to stamp the ground impatiently. He didn’t want to seem even more like a child then they already saw him as. 

Damen glanced anxiously over at Kastor, who didn’t look inclined to respond. He grimaced, and turned back to Laurent, who raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re mother is in the hospital,” he informed him, brown eyes wide with sympathy, hands shoved into his jean pockets. He glanced up at his brother again, who wasn’t even looking in Laurent’s direction. “Dad sent us to take you there. Aleron and Auguste are already there.”

Laurent stared at the two of them. Was this one of their pranks? Were they going to dump him into a mudhole and leave him for his brother to find?

Damen and Kastor wore twin solemn expressions.

The heat felt more oppressive than it had a moment ago.

Kastor got into the driver’s seat without a word, and Laurent only got into the back seat once Damen motioned him in from the passenger seat. 

Kastor drove them to the hospital, the country station blaring. Laurent could see Damen continuously checking on him through the rearview mirror, brow furrowed anxiously. 

Auguste was waiting for them outside of the ER, and Laurent hopped out of the truck and flung himself into his arms. He tried desperately not to cry, since he knew the Akielon boys were still watching, but he couldn’t stop the tears from soaking into Auguste’s blue button down. 

“Thank you,” he heard Auguste say to Kastor and Damen over his head. 

They both mumbled back a response, and Laurent could hear the sound of the truck pulling away. 

\--

That was the beginning of the worst summer of Laurent’s life. 

Hennike passed away in May, and in June, Auguste graduated highschool. 

Laurent spent the summer tearfully begging Auguste to stay, to not go away to school. Everytime he did, Auguste would look helplessly to their father. 

“Laurent,” Aleron would say, “your brother has to go off to school. He can’t be putting it off just to take care of you.”

In July, Auguste lost his final 4-H cattle showing to Damen. Again. Laurent seethed as he was handed the grand champion ribbon, and this time, Auguste didn’t even qualify for state. 

He seethed as he watched Damen’s eyes sought out his mother in the bleachers, and then his father and brother and stepmother.

It was unfair, Laurent mused, as they drove home, staring out the window at the flat expanse of Texas, a rush of dull green and dusty brown. Damen had everything he didn’t. A mother who was still living. Two, if you counted his stepmother. A brother who was content to stay home and take online classes for college.

He had always stayed out of Auguste’s war with Damen and Kastor. The silly prank war, Aleron called it. Auguste would pretend to look affronted, and respond, “Dad, I’m defending our honor!”

But now Auguste was leaving in less than a month. 

When they dropped Auguste off at College Station, the three of them clad in burgundy Aggie t-shirts, Laurent resolved not to cry. He’d cried all summer, it felt like. 

Auguste knelt down to give him a big hug outside of his dorm. “You’ll be okay without me, Lau.” 

Laurent sniffed into his shoulder. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. He buried his face into the rough cotton of Auguste’s t-shirt. 

Auguste rubbed circled into his back. “It’s okay. You have to help Dad get the new guy up to speed. Who else is going to teach him the names of all the horses and the chickens?” 

Laurent nodded, and pulled back, looking into his brother’s blue eyes. Auguste smiled, and ruffled his hair, which Laurent always hated, but decided to tolerate, today. “Not to mention, you are now the only thing standing between the Akielon boys and total chaos. You have to continue my legacy, little brother.”

Laurent heard Aleron chuckle behind them. “Now, Auguste, don’t go pulling your little brother into your silly prank war with the neighbors-”

“It’s about honor!” Laurent was quick to insist, which made Auguste laugh. 

“Exactly!” He stood up, and nodded towards their father. There would be no tearful embraces between the two of them, Laurent knew. 

“You’ll both be fine,” Auguste said confidently.

Aleron cleared his throat. “We will be.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment. Laurent watched him fidget for a moment, before removing the big Stetson he always wore on his head and stepping forward to place it on Auguste’s head. 

Auguste looked surprised at this gesture. 

“Well, Laurent, we’d better go,” Aleron said, running his hand through his hat-flattened hair. 

Laurent looked at his brother. There were some clouds in the sky today, which felt appropriate, but Auguste was standing in a spot of sunlight, brightening the burgundy of his t-shirt, and highlighting the gold of his hair against the white Stetson, making him look every inch the golden son that he was. 

\--

Coming home felt different. Their big ranch house felt empty, without his mother or his brother to fill it with their light and laughter.

Laurent was glad that the new hire would be living with them. He wasn’t sure if he could take it, just him and his father. 

Besides the usual ranch staff, Aleron had also hired Jord, to replace the work that Auguste did. 

Summer was over, to Laurent’s relief. School meant he didn’t have to sit around the farmhouse, staring at the spot on the couch his mother preferred, or at his brother’s door, waiting for it to open and Auguste to come striding out.

To Laurent’s dismay, not everything at school was the same. Damen, who was in eight grade now, did not even bother responding to his passing glares with a roll of the eyes, instead just shooting him wide-eyed, pitying glances.

Laurent hated it. Hated Damen, for reminding him with every look of what he’d lost.

After two weeks of this, he was sitting in the passenger seat of Jord’s old pickup truck, the cracked leather seats rough against him. They were patrolling the edge of the ranch’s property, as Jord often did, looking out for holes in the many miles of fencing, or fallen tree limbs, or signs of pests, or any other hazards. When they reached their shared fence with White Cliff Ranch, Laurent told Jord to stop. 

“What?” Jord asked, even as he did as Laurent said. “Do you see something?”

“No,” Laurent replied, opening the passenger door and hopping down onto the ground below. He grinned a bit. “Don’t wait up for me; I’ll walk back,” he said, eyeing the fence. 

Jord followed his gaze and rolled his eyes. “Don’t do anything too stupid. Your father told me about the antics your brothers and the Akielon boys got up to. They’re both older than you, and bigger.”

Laurent shrugged. “They’re boneheads. Don’t wait up,” he repeated, and slammed the door. He didn’t wait for Jord to drive away, just delicately pulled up a row of the barbed wire so he could carefully step in between. He was small, so it was easy. 

From there he walked steadily towards where he knew the main barn was on the Akielon property. He only knew from a couple of years ago, when they stopped by for Kastor’s highschool graduation open house, saying perfunctory hellos and congratulations. 

He hadn’t really had a plan when he’d hopped out of the truck. But now, walking under the occasional mesquite trees for a moment or two of shade, keeping his eyes peeled for rattlers as he walked through the scrub grass and past the thorny shrubs that dotted the land, a plan formed in his mind.

In the cooler hours of the evening, there was very little activity around the White Cliff farmhouse and barns. It was very easy for Laurent to sneak into the horse barn, and up into the loft, where they would get their hay everyday for the horses. 

It was even easier to untie the bales of hay, retying them with a knot that would immediately come undone if someone pulled on them. Not all of the bales, mind you. Just some of them. Random ones. He couldn’t lift up a bale by himself, but he could shove them around a bit, shuffling around the untied ones as best as possible. 

It was maybe not the most elaborate prank, but it would be obnoxious.

\--

To Laurent’s delight, the plan worked just as he’d wanted. 

Damen confronted him at school a couple of days later. “Did you rig our hay bales to untie on us?” he demanded, before Laurent could get on the bus at the end of the day.

Laurent held back a grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted airily. “I certainly would never do something like that.” 

Damen rolled his eyes. “I’m watching you, de Vere,” he said, before stalking away. 

The next week, when Laurent went out to help Jord muck stalls, he slipped his feet into his muck boots, only to find them filled with manure. 

He was annoyed, but also somewhat pleased that Damen had decided he was a worthy adversary after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, while I did grow up in South Texas (even further south than this fic takes place), I didn’t grow up on a farm or a ranch, but my dad did, so I got a lot from him. As far as the competition between Auguste and Damen and Kastor, I had it focus more on 4-H than on rodeos, bc that’s what I’m familiar with. Just pretend that they all specialize in different events at the rodeo so they're not in competition. Also, for those not from Texas, H-E-B is a regional grocery store.  
> Thanks for reading! Comments always appreciated!


End file.
